Friday, Friday

Mmm, you can understand why the Mamas and the Papas chose to sing about the first day of the week can't you? But Friday is now down as departure day as we're staying on to help friends with a pub quiz on Thursday. For some reason they're inviting us again even after our poor performance at last week's quiz, when we inveigled an invite and rather stupidly bigged ourselves up about our quiz credentials. There they were expecting us to help them storm to the front of the leader board and there we were scratching our heads and looking for the exit.

My aim is to be up by Preston Brook by the end of the weekend, which is eminently doable if we can wake up at a reasonable hour. Between waking up and casting off there's usually a hour or an hour and a half spent forcing oneself out of bed, making the tea, drinking the tea, getting washed and dressed and walking the dogs. It's a far cry from those epic cruises I shared with my dad all those years ago which would see us up at six and away by quarter past. Crikey, how did we do it? And then we often used to do 10-12 hour days! I think we squeezed every last penny of value from our hire pound back then....